


I Believe in the Bog King

by devilsadvocate



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Feels, Fluff, human/fairy AU, modern day AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:52:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4492512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilsadvocate/pseuds/devilsadvocate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legend tells of an ancient fæ kingdom where two very different entities fell in love. But one tragic day, the Bog King's queen died in a terrible accident. And thus the king ruled his Dark Forest alone and without love...until now.<br/>-<br/>Twenty two year old Marianne has finished college and how does her father reward her? With a three month trip to see her estranged and likely senile grandmother in Scotland, in hopes of helping his eldest daughter find herself. And thus our heroine begrudgingly travels to the foreign country alone to hear tales of a woman whose face has long since eroded by time. But that is not all she finds...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which an Estranged (and Slightly Nutty) Family Member is Met and Marianne is Told a Tale Over Tea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoseWaterWitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseWaterWitch/gifts).
  * Inspired by [An Awful Fix](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3409682) by [RoseWaterWitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseWaterWitch/pseuds/RoseWaterWitch). 



> To RoseWaterWitch-  
> Thank you for your fantastic piece, it really inspired me to write this. I hope you enjoy. (:
> 
> To my loverly sister/editor-  
> You're amazing and I appreciate your patience with me and my obsession. 
> 
> and finally, to the wonderful Strange Magic fans (of which there are too many to dedicate this to) who are reading this fanficion.  
> -  
> Alright, first published Strange Magic fanfic, here we go!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my dear friend for the best nursery rhyme ever.  
> Introverts unite! ;)

The cabbie had been kind enough to drop her right in front of her grandmother’s house. But helping her haul her luggage up the long gravel drive seemed a bit of a stretch. She paid him and watched with a tired expression as his back lights disappeared down the never ending dirt road. Marianne took a breath and turned to the farmhouse that her grandmother resided in. The house was a two story. It was dark enough to see that the two windows on the bottom floor were illuminated from the inside.

“Full house,” Marianne muttered, picking up two of the three bags and started walking. As the house got closer, it appeared that there was a total of five rooms in the house. Only three of those five had curtains that hid the rooms from the outside. The rest of the windows were boarded up. Marianne dropped the bags by the front door just as someone opened it. The light that flooded the porch made Marianne squint. As her eyes adjusted, the woman’s features were revealed. She was a short, heavy set woman with a pinched face. Her hair was in a tight bun at the crown of her head and she was dressed in a blue night gown.

“You must be the caretaker,” Marianne said.

“And you must be Marianne. Welcome.” Her tone suggested Marianne was quite the opposite. “Do you have any more bags?” Her accent was impossible to place but at least it was understandable. Those at the airport had thick, near indecipherable accents.

“Yeah, I have one more.”

Her lips pursed at the information. “I shall go wake your grandmother.” The woman turned and then paused. Her sharp eyes flicked towards Marianne. “She is an impatient woman, you would do well not to dally.” Then the door was closed once again.

Gold brown eyes glared at the wood door for a moment. Then the petite woman turned. “Welcome, my ass,” Marianne muttered, stomping down the drive.

.

.

.

Seven minutes later, Marianne and her heavy bag were greeted with the sight of a large, wrinkled woman in a wheelchair with the caretaker at her back. The blue clad woman narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. Obviously Marianne had take too long in getting her bag. Marianne ignored the glare and instead focused on her grandmother. The woman had a tired but kind smile upon her wrinkled face. Her brown eyes twinkled with a spark of mischief that seemed to have lasted through the years. She stood on shaky legs and opened her arms wide.

“Marianne,” her smiled widened. “Welcome.”

_Damn, my second hug in a week. I’m on a roll,_ Marianne thought wryly. With a deep breath, the petite woman stepped into her grandmother’s embrace. She gently rested her hands on the woman’s broad back and laid her head on her shoulder. A wrinkled hand stroked her short hair while the other squeezed her back. The photographer exhaled and inhaled. She was greeted with the scent of horse, a strange and foreign smell but not a particularly bad one. Slowly, she relaxed into the hug. Then, it was over. The woman returned to her seat in the wheelchair. Marianne shoved her hands into her sweatshirt pockets and brought her shoulders up to her ears. The brisk morning air felt colder than it had moments before.

The caretaker cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should head inside. I will make some tea.”

“What an idea, Agatha!” exclaimed the wheelchair bound woman. “Earl Gray sound good for ye, Marianne?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, that sounds great. Especially after that flight.” Marianne ran a hand through her hair.

“Oooch, yes. I am sorry about that. I would ‘ave come to visit ye but poor Agatha ‘ere is afraid of ‘eights. Aren’t ye, dear?” The old woman reached up to pat Agatha’s hand as the caretaker began to push the wheelchair into the house. The woman in blue gave a grunt.

“Och, ignore ‘er. She’s just upset she’ll be cleanin’ up somebody else’s mess. Ye’ll try and clean up after yeself won’t ye, Marianne?” the old woman called behind her.

Marianne drew herself away from looking into the cozy, book filled living room and responded, “I’ll try, yes. I’m usually pretty tidy. You don’t have to worry about me, Agatha,” Marianne said pointedly. The caretaker grunted again.

“And ‘ere’s th’ kitchen!” announced the woman in the wheelchair, as if she had been giving a tour of the house. Marianne smiled as she took a seat at the dining table. Agatha parked her ward at the head of the table. The elderly woman leaned into the table and looked to Marianne.

“So, wha’ do ye think of Scotland so far? Not as urban as your ‘ome, I am sure.”

Marianne smiled and played with the bracelet that Dawn had made her. The thought of her bright sister made her homesick but she shoved the feeling to the side.

“Well, I haven’t seen as much of it as I’d like to. It was dark when I got here, but I can’t wait to explore later tomorrow. I’m sure it’s gorgeous.” _Maybe I’ll be able to take some pictures_ , she thought with a small smile.

Agatha sat down on the other side of the elderly woman. “Try not to wander too much, Marianne,” she said sternly. “Sometimes...people get lost.”  

“Och, dorn’t be such a downer, Aggie. She’s only just got ‘ere.” The old woman scoffed and rolled her eyes at Marianne as if they were the best of friends and Agatha, someone who tripped in the cafeteria. The petite woman laughed despite herself. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as she thought.

The three sat in silence. Marianne examining the rustic kitchen and trying not to meet Agatha’s glare. Meanwhile, the water in the kettle began to boil. It was quiet for a moment longer when suddenly, her grandmother exclaimed, “Quick, quick, Aggie get th’ water! Dorn’t let it whistle, dorn’t let it whistle!” Wrinkled hands were at her temples as the woman screeched and flailed. Agatha was up in a flash and at the gas stove. The building whistle was quickly silenced. The elderly woman melted into her wheelchair with a long, drawn out sigh.

“Ye know better than that, Aggie. I know ye do,” the elderly woman said tiredly. “Ye know, ye know, ye know…”

Agatha merely made a noncommittal grunt and brought down two tea cups.

Marianne was looking worriedly back and forth between Agatha and her grandmother. She was still doing so when Agatha came back with the two tea cups.

“Somethin’ on yer mind, luv?” inquired her grandmother, now pleasant as can be.

Marianne sipped her tea and said, “Ah...yeah. What was that?”

Her grandmother just laughed and tossed a hand back. “Och it’s nothin’. I just dorn’t like th-”

“Coira has hyperacusis.” When Marianne frowned, the caretaker sighed. “It means she is very sensitive to certain sounds. She has a device that makes it easier for her, it's just the louder sounds that are an issue.”

Coria glared at her caretaker. “Thank you, Agatha.” The middle aged woman smirked and looked down at her clasped hands. “Ah got into a car crash last year. Hence th’ wheelchair. And the...condition. But anywho, Aggie, won’t ye be a dear and take Marianne’s luggage upstairs? She’s likely too exhausted from th’ flight t’ carry those things up there.” Agatha grimaced and stood. Now it was Marianne’s turn to smirk at Agatha. “Och, and why dorn’t ye make her bed too? I think the sheets’ll be a bite dusty.” Agatha didn’t respond as she trudged up the stairs, bags in tow.

A vice like grip on her wrist made Marianne turn her head away from Agatha’s receding form. Coria’s face had lost its smile.

“Grandma Cor-”  
  


 

“Shhhht!” Marianne shut her mouth and looked up at the ceiling with her grandmother. “Good, she’s upstairs.”

“Wha-”

“Shhhht! How much do ye know?” Coria’s face was serious and her demeanor was much more different from the Coria from seconds before.

“Know? Know about what? Grandma Coria, you're not making any sense.”

“Th’ fairies!” the elder hissed. “How much do ye know about th’ fairies?”

Marianne frowned. “Fairies? Wha- nothing. My mom told me stories when I was little, but that’s all. I haven’t talked about fairies in ages. What is this ab-”

“Nothing? Nothing? Blast that man and his doubts. Damn that fool. Not good enough for my daughter...” The woman continued muttering curses and insults under her breath.

The confused frown transformed into a look of anger. “Are you talking about my father?” Her voice had a warning tone. Her grandmother had hit a nerve. Marianne had heard too many people tell her that her father didn’t deserve her mother. If even her grandmother thought that, they were going to have some issues.

Coria shook her head. “No time to argue, luv. Your mother, your mother, what did she tell you about th’ fairies?” she asked frantically.

Marianne frowned again and scoffed. “It was just a stupid story. Something about a-a Bug King?"

 

 

" _Bog,"_ Coria said sternly. 

 

"Whatever. The story went like…” She chewed her lip as she tried to recall the elusive memory of her mother’s story.

Her grandmother nodded encouragement. “Gather round children and you shall hear…,” she began.

“Of the forthcoming of a mighty kingdom,” Marianne joined in, a small smile upon her lips.

Grandmother and granddaughter continued together:

“Joined together with nary a jeer,

Such a love like this was so very seldom.

Yes, they were united by love oh so true,

Change was imminent, but they hadn’t known what they’d caused,

With this love in their hearts, as one, they both knew

The subjects must accept them, regardless of flaws

This joining of kingdoms was long overdue.

When in front of their subjects, they confessed their love,

A mighty cheer erupted, all giving applause.

This perfect pairing, they fit like a glove,

A kingdom established, with new governing laws.

Merciful rulers, true dignitaries were they,

Never ceasing in good,

Not a single subject refused to obey,

But a great power struggle was coming their way.

Death crept upon her like a winter’s frost

Oh the poor kingdom,

Her battle was lost,

A new ruler emerged seeking to condemn.

The king was heartsick,

Stricken with pain,

Cut were his heartstrings

To the forest he retreated to wrestle his bane

And now children listen well,

Heade the Dark Forest

For the Dark King’s heart’s gone to hell,

For his wound never healed, remaining the sorest.”

Marianne stopped but her grandmother didn’t.

“Star crossed lovers, it seems, shall never prevail

Marianne is no more

The once mighty kingdom is truly a fail

A kingdom- once loved- now thrown into war,” the old woman whispered with a grin. Marianne balked.

“What!? Maria- But that’s my na-”

Her questions were cut off by Agatha’s appearance.

“Your bags are in the first room to the left. Why don’t you get some sleep, Marianne? Because I’m sure you're exhausted.” Agatha’s tone was dry and she oozed doubt and suspicion.

Marianne huffed and stood. “Thanks for taking my stuff up there. I really appreciate it.”

The caretaker grunted and began pushing Coria to her bedroom.

“Have a nice sleep, Marianne! Talk to ye this afternoon!”

 **  
** Marianne gave her grandmother a halfhearted smile and began the trek upstairs for some well deserved sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 105 hits and I'll post the chapter two!
> 
> Thank you again for reading. ^3^


	2. In Which Marianne Explores the Forest Behind the House and Gets Herself into a Spot of Trouble

Sleep didn’t come easy to Marianne that morning. After a quick call to Dawn, the brunette laid in bed, tossing and turning. Questions ran through her mind, bouncing off each other like a twisted game of tag. Did her mother name her after the queen in that story? Why had she left out that verse when she told her and Dawn that story? It wasn’t like it was twisted, like the verse before. It was just the end of the story. How did her father tie into all of this? Coria had said that he didn’t believe. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know about this whole fairy thing. So what had he been trying to keep her from?  Her questions eventually lulled her to sleep just as the orange rays of the morning light peeked over her windowsill. Marianne’s dreams were strange, to say the least.

First, it was a memory. Dawn, her mother, and she sat in their shared room while their mother told the tale that the girls never grew tired of. But when her mother finished her story, her grandmother’s voice echoed through the dream as the white walls of her bedroom became dark, shadowy trees of oak, blackthorn, holly, ash, and rowan.

“ _Star crossed lovers, it seems, shall never prevail_

_Marianne is no more_

_The once mighty kingdom is truly a fail_

_A kingdom- once loved- now thrown into war_ ”

The words danced lazily on the wind, blowing through the leaves of the trees, making them rattle eerily. The message grew distorted and loud, adding to the clashing of metal upon metal. These sounds echoed through the forest causing Marianne to clutch at her ears. All was silenced as a growl curled from the depths of the dream forest. Marianne stood and mindlessly ran from the buzzing creature that followed her. The maze of trees and fog had her running in what felt like circles until she came upon a clearing. Everything fell silent as her eyes fell on a ring of mushrooms and long grass at the center of the clearing. As the brunette approached, music could be heard. Strange, sad, haunting music that promised swaying hips, a never empty glass, and one’s darkest desires. Marianne could feel a slight pull at the bottom of her ribcage as the sultry music beckoned to her darker side. She was drawn forward, almost catlike in her walk toward selfless abandon. Just before she could step into the circle, a tall figure stepped from the trees that surrounded the clearing. And everything fell away to darkness as her gold brown eyes locked with his cobalt ones.

The creature let out a strangled breath and reached out a long, clawed hand as it stepped forward. Marianne was stuck, frozen and unable to run again as the dark creature approached. Its face was painful to watch as emotion after emotion battled for control. Finally, something tender won and its hand, however reluctant, met with her delicate flesh. Her eyes remained on those tear filled orbs of blue. The urge to wrap her arms around its waist and whisper comforting nothings bloomed inside her chest. It sighed and ran its clawed fingers through her hair.

Voice thick with tears and emotion, it crooned, “Och...Marianne. Mah Marianne.”

.

.

.

Marianne woke with a start, an anguished howl of loss echoing in her ears.

She groaned and sat up running a hand through her hair. Jet lag was a real bitch. She stood and dug through her bulging suitcase for her toiletries and a change of clothes, then shuffled to the bathroom across the hall. The brunette emerged half an hour later, hair a controlled mess and dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt that advertised her fencing club from college. Marianne dug her temporary phone out of her carry on. As she waited for it to turn on, she looked out the window. As she had, suspected, Scotland was pretty damn scenic. She wondered wryly if her opinion on that would change as the months went by. Her phone buzzed as several texts came in, one from her father, and four from Roland.

**Daddy 7/17 8:35pm**

_I hope you have a good time Marianne. I know you were reluctant to go but I’m glad you agreed in the end. This will be good for you. Coria is a good woman. Eccentric, perhaps but she loves your mother. Don’t forget to shoot a quick text your father’s way every once and a while. After all, I did pay for most of your trip. I think I’m at least owed a text or three. ;)_

_I love you very much, Marianne. Remember that, okay? Alright, I think I’ve talked enough. Have a good time and stay out of trouble._

_-Robert_

The brunette chewed her lip and deliberately tapped out her response.

_Oh, she’s eccentric, alright. Why don’t you call me sometime today? She mentioned something I’d like to discuss with you._

_-Marianne_

Roland’s texts remained unread, as they always did. She shoved the slender device into her pants pocket and began the descent downstairs. It seemed neither Agatha nor Coria were in the house when she came down for breakfast. Marianne was ravenous, so she grabbed a glass of milk before heading out onto her grandmother’s property. It was a sunny day with a smattering of clouds and a slight breeze. Perfect for an afternoon of exploration. After breakfast. The brunette began the trek down towards the barn, where she suspected her grandmother to be.

A melody danced with the wind, carried from the barn. As Marianne entered the big red building, the tune grew stronger. Coria was leaning heavily on the door of a stall as a horse blew warm air into her frizzy grey hair.

“That’s a wonderful song, Grandmother,” Marianne said softly, taking care not to startle her grandmother. The elderly woman turned, a bright smile on her lips.

“Och, thank ye. Just a song.” A mischievous smile spread onto her grandmother's features. “Good morning to ye, Sleepin’ Beaut! Ah was wonderin’ when yee’d wake.”

Marianne smiled and shrugged. “How long was I out?”

Coria continued petting the horse, murmuring under her breath. When the animal lost interest in her grandmother and the gate was closed, the wire haired woman continued, “Och just a day. Nothing Ah haven’t seen before. Jet lag gotche?”

“And then some.” Her stomach growled as proof. Blood rushed to her cheeks while Coria laughed.

“Wee bit hungry, eh? C’mon, let’s go get some food in ye.”

.

.

.

Breakfast would definitely tide her over until dinner. After the huge breakfast and a few tips for traveling through the forest, Marianne was out the back door and into the woods. Time goes by quickly in the forest. When she had left, the sun was barely overhead. Now it was just a couple hours before it set and Marianne was feel rather lost.

“I swear I’ve seen that tree six times now! I’m walking in circles,” she sighed and leaned against a tree. There she rested before her need to move caused her to start forward. The brunette sang to herself for comfort as the tree’s shadows grew longer and began to resemble the creature from the night before.

  
“ _Where’re we? What the hell is going on? The dust has only just begun to form crop circles in the carpet. Sinking feeling._ ”

Slender fingers wrapped around a slender tree trunk and she spun as she sang, “ _Spin me ‘round again and rub my eyes. This can’t be happening. When busy streets, a mess with people, who stop to hold their heads heavy_.”

Marianne threw her back against the tree and sighed up to the branches and leaves above her, “Hide and seek. Trains and sewing machines. All those years, they were here first.”

A breeze made the leave sigh back at her, as if in agreement. She comfortingly smiled at them and continued her private concert to the forest, dancing through the trees, eyes closed, heart content to let itself free through song.    

“ _Oh, what’cha say? Ooh, that you only meant well, well of course you did. Oh, what’cha say, oh, that  it’s all for the best because it is. Oh, what’cha say, ooh that it’s just what we need, you decided this. Mmm, what’d you say? Ooh, what did she say?_ ”

Marianne had danced herself into the clearing from her dream, where she continued to dance with her eyes closed - straight for the ring of mushrooms. When she was just inches from stepping into the circle, a huge, scaly hand caught her wrist and lifted her effortlessly off the ground.

Brown gold eyes flew open as they met with the eyes of the hand’s owner. He was a huge, brutish man but he looked… different. His skin resembled that of a snake’s. He was naked. And his eyes...his beady eyes were an inhuman yellow. The man closed one eye then the other as his fat lips parted as a forked tongue flicked the air for a moment. That was where Marianne drew the line. She gasped as if about to scream and went limp in the creature’s grasp.

.

.

.

Marianne found herself in a hanging cage when she woke. This is an unexpected turn of events, she thought. Further examination revealed that her prison was made from branches.

“ _What the hell_?”

The sound of scrabbling caused Marianne to peer through the bars of her cage. She was unable to see the owners of the voices that issued from below.  

“Quick! Quick, she’s awake,” cried a deep voice. “Go get him, Thang.”

“Why me?”

“You’re faster.”

“...You’re right. I’ll be right back.”

As Thang left the clearing, Marianne called down to the other person.

“Excuse me!”

“...yes?”

“You...wouldn’t mind letting me out of my cage, would you?”

“I would mind, actually.”

The prisoner let out a wry laugh and leaned against the cage wall. “Ah well. Worth a shot, eh?” No response. “Tough crowd,” she muttered. “Look, let’s...get to know each other while we wait. I’m Marianne. And you are?”

There was a long pause. Marianne was just about to give up on all conversation when the jailer responded softly, “I know who you are. Or knew who you look like, anyway…” Her -Marianne decided to describe the stranger as a female- voice became stronger. “I’m… Stuff, if you must know.”

“Stuff,” Marianne murmured. “That’s...an unique name. I like it.”

Appreciative mutters could be heard from below.

Thang interrupted, running back crying frantically, “He’s coming, he’s coming!”

Both scrabbled around the base of the tree as a roar echoed through the forest. The buzzing of wings could be heard in the distance.

“Oh, he sounds happy,” Marianne said, her voice shaking.

The creature from her dreams shot up from the tops of the trees roaring, “Where! Where is she?”

 

Blue eyes locked on her cage and Marianne scooted as far away from him as possible. He zoomed toward the cage with a shout and grabbed it by the bars, shaking it slightly. Her teeth rattled against each other at the impact.

“Ye! Ye! Let me see yer face. Let me see!”

Fear of what else he would do caused her head to turn. He drank her in and let out an anguished sigh. Tears filled his raging eyes. The cage grew still.

“Ye...but how?” he whispered hoarsely. “Ye died. I _watched_ ye die. Ye can’t be alive.” He reached out a hand to caress her arm despite Marianne’s efforts to flinch away from him. Brown gold eyes met his blue orbs. “Ah’d fergotten...yer eyes,” the creature muttered. He dragged his eyes over her body, finally noticing her discomfort. His hand retracted. “Key!” he yelled, soaring down upon his subjects. “Where’s th’ bludy key?”

Seconds later, he was back and working impatiently at the lock. Once the door was open he offered a hand. Marianne looked from it to him, arms tightly crossed. His face fell when as he realized she refused to take his hand.

“C’mon, Marianne,” he said desperately. Marianne ground her teeth while her mind roiled in thought. Reluctantly, her hand found his and he took her into his arms. Together, they flew down the the ground, she cradled in his arms as if she were a doll.

 

The brunette pushed away from him the second his feet touch the ground. Her eyes landed on Stuff and Thang. They were about the size of toddlers though their features suggested they were anything but. Both were humanoid but they had some features that resembled that of forest creatures. Stuff was a heavy set creature with skin like a frog’s. She had long, curly hair and a bare face. Like most of the creatures of the forest, she was naked. Marianne offered her a slight smile, one that she returned. Thang was obviously a male. Like Stuff, he too was naked. His skin was like a fish’s, scales a cloudy white and salmon pink. He wasn’t the best thing to look at but he was cute, in a way.   

Marianne returned her gaze back to the one who released her. He stood up straight, arms stiff at his sides as if he had no idea what to do with himself. _He probably doesn’t, poor dear_ , she thought. The brunette bit her lip. _I’m so sorry for this_.

She shoved the heel of her hand into his long chin, turned, and ran into the dark forest.

“Need any help, Boss?” She heard Thang say loudly.

“NOO,” roared the creature. The buzz of wings could be heard as she ran, ducking under branches and hopping over roots. A long hand closed around her arm and began to lift her off the ground. She shrieked and clawed at his hand. His grip shifted from her forearm to her wrist, where she finally slipped free of his grasp and fell towards the forest floor.                           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heehee cliffhangers. It's pretty nice not to be on the receiving end. 
> 
> 150 hits and I'll post the next chapter. 
> 
> Don't forget to drop a comment and/or a kudos!
> 
> And as always, thanks for reading. ^3^


	3. In Which Marianne Has Decided She’s Fallen Down the Rabbit Hole and the Bog King’s Heart Grows a Little Less Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA In Which There is No Chapter, Only a Fluffy Sheep in its Stead

Everything hurt. From the tips of her toes to the top of her head, everything in between felt broken or bruised. She shifted to her left and hissed as every fiber in her being protested at the movement.

“Ah… _fuuck_ ,” she rasped, as she continued turning over despite the fierce pain.

“Marianne?” inquired a tentative voice. Him. She growled, an almost inhuman sound, as she completed turning onto her back. Marianne ignored him, letting him feel all the guilt as she did nothing but sit in her bed. Brown gold eyes drifted over her bed of moss and leaves. She let a bandaged hand glide over the soft green plant and let out a soft chuckle. It was five times her size. How…? I found myself in Wonderland, she thought with a wry smirk. Ow. Even her cheeks hurt, specifically her right one.

Her eyes wandered around the room. It was a round, with no difference between wall and ceiling. It looked as though it was carved from….wood? Where were they? Most everything was round, including the bed, the desk, even the bookshelves were round in shape. This obviously wasn’t a hospital room. A bedroom perhaps. But whose? She took in the length of the bed, the height of the bookshelves and let out a slight groan. His.         

“A-are ye alrigh’? Do...do ye need anything?” He kept his distance, though his fingers twitched as if he wanted nothing more than to hold her, to touch her. To feel how she was feeling, not just be told. Had he been here the whole time?  

_I am kind of thirsty_... She clenched her jaw, reluctant to allow him to do anything for her. He’s the only one here, muttered her sensible side. The rest of her groaned their agreement. “...Water,” she muttered through her teeth.  

“Water,” he murmured. He turned away and walked to the doorway, closing the distance in two strides.

“WATER!” he bellowed into the hall. “You!” A squeak could be heard from the outside of the door. “Go get some water. NOW.”  

What is with him and yelling? Her eyes fell closed and she took a deep breath, straining fractured ribs and muscles. The leader returned to his seat as she exhaled. They sat in an awkward silence as they waited.

“You’re staring,” she muttered, eyes still closed.

She heard him shift in his seat. “No…”

“Yeah,” Marianne said, her tone a declaring a playful challenge. She could hear his lips pull away from his teeth as he grinned.

“No.”

“Yep.”  

“No.”

“Oh, yes,” she chortled.

“Not at all.”

“Absolutely.”

“Definately not.”

“Totally staring.”

She heard him grind his teeth and Marianne could imagine narrowed blue eyes and a suppressed smile upon pursed lips as vividly as she could if she were looking at him. She grinned and looked at him. He wore the expression she had imagined. It was a little less happy, as though the vision was from another time. Molten gold and hazel pools met bright blue orbs. Her smile faltered and his eyes softened. Marianne looked away, clearing her throat. She blew a stray hair out of her face.       

“Give up?”

He smiled sadly.

“Never, Tough Gi-”

“Sire!” cried a sprite with a dandelion seed sprouting out of his head. The king turned with a snarl, causing the little creature to jump and almost drop the acorn shell of water. The taller fae stood and snatched the makeshift cup from the boy. He swung around and made to lift the cup to Marianne’s lips.

“Wait,” she whispered. Both fairies froze. Marianne struggled to sit up and the king rushed to help her. With his hand at her back, Marianne was able to speak properly to the little man. “Thank you,” she said, her voice stronger. Her eyes flicked up to the owner of the hand and he muttered darkly .

“Ah...thank ye,” he said around a grimace. The tiny fae squeaked and bowed to the damaged woman who sat like a queen and the tall, menacing creature with a protective hand at the small of her back. After he left, they remained that way, his claws grazing her bruised hip. She looked up and found that he was already gazing down at her. He smiled bashfully and she let a smile tug at her lips.

“Could you...ah...let me down?”

“Och! Yea, of course.” He busied himself with attempting to single handedly lay her down in a comfortable position. Once back in her original position, he helped her sip at the water. It had a pleasant earthy tone, as if it had been filtered through decaying leaves, dirt, and wood. She sighed contentedly as he set the empty cup down on the floor. To avoid another awkward stretch of dead air, Marianne said, “Hi, my name is Marianne. I am twenty-two years old and am currently unemployed. I have a master’s in photography. I am temporarily living in Scotland for vacation.” The king’s eye grew wide and slightly worried at the overload of information.

“Alright, your turn.” He frowned in concentration and opened his mouth to speak.

“I am the Bog King,” he said dramatically, beating his chest. Marianne snickered. His confused face made it worse and soon she was wholeheartedly laughing, sides screaming their protest and fat tears streaming down her cheeks. Her rich laugh skipped around the door left askew by the sprite and backflipped down the hall, performing a joyous dance the castle hadn’t seen in centuries.       

“Oh...whoo...ah, I’m internally bleeding. Thanks. Ah, ah, ah ooooooh no. Nononononononooo.” She giggled and settled herself under the covers, exhausted from the half hour’s worth of action. Bog remained frozen, reeling from the similarity to her. He blinked, once, twice, then sat forward to run a clawed hand over the delicate mortal’s face.

“Good night...Bug King,” Marianne whispered.

“Bog.”

“Potato, patato.”

Bog growled. She sleepily smiled at the sound then drifted off into a dreamless sleep. He sighed, sat back, and watched the phenomenon that came in the form of a petite mortal.

.

.

.

“So...yer tellin’ me that that’s not Marianne?” The Bog’s voice was the first she heard when she surfaced. He sounded exhausted.

“Yes. No. That’s not your Marianne. I mean, she can be, love is strange, who knows what could happen between you two in the future. Oh! I can imagine the little babies already! They’ll have her-”

“Sugar Plum,” he said, voice rising in warning.

“Alright, alright. She is Marianne, but she’s not yours. I’m sure she has all her qualities, family, friends, life that your Marianne did. But I don’t think this one...met you. Or some version of you.”

“But ye said-”

“I know what I said, Bog!” she snapped. The humanoid shaped light examined her fingernails, ignoring the snarling Bog. “I don’t know, alright? I’m an expert on love, not magic and reincarnation,” Sugar Plum finished her examination. “Anywho, looks like she’s awake. And like I can get out of here!” The blue light did a loop then flew out the door, yelling, “Ta-ta! Remember the children!”

Bog sighed. “Should’ve kept her in the dungeon.” He lowered himself into a chair, she noticed, that obviously not meant for him. His knees were inches from his chest. Marianne giggled. Her ribcage retaliated with a whooping punch of pain. Laugh cut off, she winced, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Are ye alrigh’?” He had sat forward, hand inches from hers, eyes filled with worry.

She let out a wry chuckle. “Could be better. A certain someone dropped me, but I’ll survive.”

Bog ducked his head and Marianne sighed guiltily. “I’m sorry, I’m giving you a hard time. I...appreciate you taking care of me as well as you have. Thank you.”

He looked up, blue eyes apologetic and full of guilt. She offered him a smile and he returned it.

“So...what were you and ‘Plum’ talking about?”

Bog’s eyes widened. “How long were ye awake?”

She shrugged. “Long enough. Well?”

The king shifted. “Ah… Ah think we could discuss that at a later time.” His shoulders came up to his ears. “Ahm sorry.”

“Meh. I’ll just have to eavesdrop some more.” She winked when he looked up in surprise.   

Marianne attempted to sit up, reaching out a hand to the king. “C’mon, help me up. Let’s see the damage.”

Happy to change the subject, Bog leapt to his feet and assisted the small mortal out of his bed and on to the floor. With his supportive hand at her back Marianne toddled to the center of the room and looked down at herself. She wore a shapeless white dress, one that fit surprisingly well. The brunette sighed as she brought up a sore arm to inspect the tiny little cuts that covered the expanse of her skin, likely from the tiny branches that she crashed through. On her left wrist she found a bruise. Bog shifted, his grip around her waist tightening.

“Ah am sorry. Ah-”

Marianne waved the apology away with the other hand. The brunette continued her inspection; sprained ankle, cuts on her legs, nothing incredibly major. She turned to the tall fae behind her.

“I...uh...noticed there’s no mirrors in here. Can you um...tell me or ah...show me how I look?” _What the fuck, Marianne? Where the hell did that come from?_

Bog seemed to be asking himself the same question. Her cheeks grew warm. “I-I-I...um, just, heh, forget I said thaatoh.”

The king kneeled and gently took her right hand in his and guided it to her face. His blue eyes were soft as they scanned her face.

“There’s...a big cut along yer jaw.” As he described the wound, he glided her fingers over the tender line about two inches long. He let a small smile grow on his lips. “It’ll be quite the scar when it heals.” Her eyes wandered over his face. There were many lines along his face that were lighter than the rest of his grey-brown skin. As if controlled by the one who gave her the bruise, her left hand moved towards Bog with a mind of its own. It settled itself onto his face, tracing over his scars. He exhaled and let his eyes drift closed. He leaned into the touch and she bit her lip.  

“Do...do they all have a story?”

“Every one,” he murmured.

She trailed a finger along his jaw, over the rough stubble on his chin. Marianne cleared her throat and removed her hand.

“So...anything else absolutely image ruining?” she inquired with a smirk. “All this,” she waved a hand at her face. “Is probably my only good feature. God only knows what will happen if I’m left without it.”

“...it’s not yer only good feature,” he said softly. “And nothing could ruin yer image.” She laughed humorlessly at that and ducked her head.

“Uh...okay. Thanks…” She shyly looked up into his gaze. “Okay! I’m..ah...tired so I’ll should...get to bed. And um...yeah…” They started their trek back to the bed. As she settled into the soft leaves she turned over, back to the King of the Fae.

“Good night, Bog,” she said for the second time that day.

 **  
** “Good night, Tough Girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware, it's a wolf in sheep's fur. You all are going to hate me for next chapter.  
> -  
> Oh my goodness, I asked for 150 hits and you give me almost 310? Thank you all SO much for your support! To those of you who commented, please know that I was brought to tears when I read them. It was really nice to hear that people are enjoying my work and were excited for updates. 
> 
> I've decided to stop asking for a certain amount of hits for the next chapter to be posted. I'm enjoying this story as much as you guys are so I'll update the second I've finished a chapter, no matter the amount of reads. 
> 
> Don't forget to drop a comment, I love reading your ideas, hopes, worries, feelings, and questions! 
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you all and again, thanks for reading ^3^


	4. In Which Marianne Emerges From the Rabbit Hole and Finds That Everything is Not Quite as She Left It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
> -MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH  
> -LOWKEY GORE (BLOOD)

She awoke to her second day in the Kingdom of the Fae rested and feeling better than she had the day before. Soft yellow light emitted from the strange glowing mushrooms that grew from the walls. Despite the unfamiliar surroundings, the room felt like home. She sighed contentedly and raised her arms to stretch only to find that one hand was trapped under the head of the ruler of the kingdom who was unceremoniously laying his head and spindly limbs on her- his- bed. A small smile spread across her face. 

“Bog,” she whispered, gently tugging on her hand. “Bog.” His only response was a soft, pleading moan as he shifted over her trapped limb. 

“Yeah, yeah, my arm is super comfortable and all. C’mon, big guy.” 

As she finally extracted her hand, the king slowly sat up, lifting his long arms high above his head with a yawn. Marianne watched the process with unabashed fascination. He came down and fixed drowsy blue eyes on her face. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of being caught staring. 

“How’d ye sleep, lu-lass?” he inquired. 

Her eyes darted away. “Great,” she replied. “And you?” 

He yawned again and cracked his neck. After, he said sleepily, “Ye know, with ye by my side, Ah could sleep on ah rock and have th’ best of dreams.” Marianne blushed and he looked away, clacking his claws together. 

“...ehm...w-would ye like to see th’ kingdom? Ah mean, unless you want to get back t’ yer home, in which case we can...ye know.” 

Marianne bit her lip in thought. What could a couple more hours away do? She’ll make up some excuse when she gets home. Anyway, it’s more time away from Agatha. 

“Yeah, why not? Let’s go.” She swung her legs out of bed and began to stand up. Her ankle made it quite clear that it, unlike her, her was ready to forgive Bog for dropping her.The brunette sank back into the bed with a sigh. “Oh...that’s right. Sprained ankle.” She looked the the fairy king. “Unless, you wouldn’t mind flying with me? Like in your arms?” 

His cobalt eyes widened with surprise. “Ye-ye mean ye trust me to fly with ye? Even after last time?”

Marianne shifted. “I-yes. No?” She pursed her lips. “I’m not running away from you this time...so...maybe? C’mon, help me up.” 

His arm were soon around her waist and a hand clasped around her’s. She smiled at him in appreciation of his effort keep himself at her height. Her gaze softened as she looked at his profile; his eyes were cast down in concentration and his lips were pursed. The smile grew and she leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. The Bog King froze, the arm around her waist going stiff while his hand clenched around hers. 

“I-I-I,” she stuttered, eyes wide. “Wow, um, I have no idea where that, ah, came from. Um...I just.” She looked away. “I guess, I wanted to thank you. You’re a king, and not just any king, the King of the Fairies. Yet you’re treating me, a mortal, with such kindness and respect. I...just...thank you.”  
The towering fae, now almost on his knees before the petite mortal, smiled a warm and sincere smile. He tightened his hold around her waist and brought her hand to his lips with blue eyes locked on hers. Marianne released a soft sigh at the touch of surprising soft lips. 

“Tis Ah who should be thankin’ ye, Marianne. Ye’ve...awakened someone who Ah had put to rest centuries ago. And now he’s emerged strong despite his long sleep.” He pressed his forehead against hers, the rough crown of bark a pain she could bear when her eyes were on his. She brought her free hand to his face and stroked his cheek with her thumb. He sighed in content. 

“...And not only that, ye’ve allowed me to see the face of-of someone Ah loved. And Ah am so grateful for that, Marianne. Nothing Ah could possibly do could ever repay ye for what ye’ve done. Thank ye. Thank ye so much.” 

There they remained, heads tepeed, arms tight around one another. Unbeknownst to the pair, something that would last until the end of time bloomed in the space between them, nurtured by their joined heads and hearts. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours, days, years before they broke apart. Finally, Marianne spoke up. 

“What were we doing again?” she murmured, eyes closed. 

He squeezed her hand and sighed with a smile. 

“Getting ye out of bed so ye could see th’ forest.” 

Marianne hummed in acknowledgement. After another moment she said, “Well, we’re halfway there.” He chuckled and drew away to guide her toward the closet. 

“The door’s that way, Bog.” 

“Ah know,” he said with a hint of frustration. “Ye can’t go out wearing that. It’s a night dress.”

Marianne started. “A what?” Bog continued forward, working a bit to pull Marianne along. 

“A nightdress. Ye’ve heard of those, righ’?” 

The petite brunette growled. “I’ll get you for this, Your Highness. Just you wait.” Bog chuckled. 

“Alrigh’. Get me after ye get dressed for travel. Something sturdy, if ye please. Ah’m going to go...do something. Outside of this room.” 

Marianne watched him walk away, then turned to the armoire. “‘If ye please’,” she said to the two doors. 

“Ah can hear ye,” Bog called over his shoulder. 

“Good!” she retorted. “Don’t you have something to do? Outside this room?” 

Bog’s shoulders drew up to his ears the final steps to the door, grumbling darkly the whole way. Marianne smiled to herself as the the door closed softly. She then turned to the closet. “Now. Show me what you’ve got.”  
.  
.  
.  
“So? What do you think?” the petite woman inquired when Bog returned. 

Marianne was clad in a purple red top that hugged her curves perfectly. The top had matching leggings and boots that copied the top’s actions. She spun slowly, while Bog just gaped. When she had finished her circle, she smiled and offered a hand to the tall fae. 

“Hey. What’s up with you?” He didn’t answer but walked toward her in a daze, ornate staff seeming to keep him on his feet. He took her hand in his and smiled down at the mortal. 

“It looks...lovely on ye.” Marianne blushed. 

“Please,” she scoffed. Bog cleared his throat, an eyebrow raised. “I mean, thank you. Your Highness.” She punched his arm gently. 

Bog rolled his eyes and walked towards the windows, throwing them open. Marianne followed, eyes locked on his wings. The four o'clock sunlight shone through his transparent wings. They were beautiful and intricate, like a dragonfly’s. She smiled at his back and shamelessly continued as he looked over his shoulder at her. He smirked at her, fearless in the summer sun. “Ready, Tough Girl?” 

He offered his hand and she took it. “You bet.” 

Bog lead her to the edge of the ledge of the window. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up, chin grazing her shoulder. Her hands followed his arms, gently settling over them. 

“Hang tight,” he whispered. Then, he lept off the edge of the window. Marianne squealed with glee, eyes wide with awe as they flew up through the branches of the tree they had just left, up, into the sky above. She let out a breath at the beauty of the endless world above. The clouds were fluffy like sheep’s wool, the sun was deliciously warm on her face. The breeze blew the brown strands of hair out of her face. She smiled. This was true bliss. Marianne silently cursed herself for not bringing her camera. 

Marianne felt safe there, in his arms. Her heart emitted wave upon wave of joy, her blood carrying the feeling to the tips of her toes up to her head. She shivered and leaned her head into Bog’s. 

“Are ye alrigh’?” he murmured into her ear. 

“Hmm?” she breathed, eyes fixed on the horizon. “Oh, I’m on top of the world.” He chuckled and squeezed her. 

“Ye haven’t seen anything yet, luv. Hold on.”

Bog fell backwards, his head pointed towards the top of the tree, arms wrapped tight around Marianne. She let out an exhilarated laugh as they descended towards the forest. As the broke through the canopy, Bog performed a number of twists and turns to avoid the branches that seemed to emerge from nowhere. Finally, they reached the ground and he sped so close to the ground that Marianne could reach down and touch it if she so pleased. The ground gave way to gorgeous reflective lake. Fish and fae alike, leapt out of the water, putting on a show for the mortal their king had taken a liking to. The young woman reached out a hand to one of the sprites but before she could touch it Bog flew up, circling around the lake one last time before diving into the Dark Forest once more. They flew to the cages where she had been kept and then to the tree pavilion where all the balls and festivals were held. Bog explained on their way to the next destination, that all festivities were put on hold during the war. He wouldn’t answer anymore questions after that. After that, they stopped a field of violet flowers where Bog stuck one behind her ear with tears in his eyes while Marianne collected flowers for a flower crown. Bog flew them up to a thick tree branch and set Marianne down. 

Marianne wobbled a little, then limped her way to where the branch protruded from the tree. As she settled in, Bog sat down across from her, eyes full of a childish joy. No sadness, no longing look, just something full of companionship. She grinned at the king, then began work on the flower crown. He scooted closer and began handing her the flowers that she needed as she worked her own kind of magic. Marianne hummed a tune as the flower crown took form in her hands. 

“Got a strange magic,” she sang, putting the final flower in place. Bog looked up in shock. He knew it from somewhere, but he couldn’t quite… 

“That song. How do ye know tha’ song?”

“I...I’m not sure what you’re asking.” Marianne leaned forward and placed the crown on his head. “I just...I dunno it popped into my mind.” 

Before Bog could continue his line of questioning a shout was heard from afar. 

“There!” 

Bog was up on his feet in a flash, staff in hand. Marianne turned her head to see three knights clad in silver armor. Their eyes, an almost molten gold color, were full of rage. Obviously, they weren’t big fans of Bog. They had wings like a moth’s and they were getting closer with every beat of the strong wings. Their swords were drawn and raised, ready to attack. 

“Bog!?” Marianne attempted to stand, falling on her knees and catching herself on his leg. He offered a clawed hand and she took it. Quickly kneeling, the fae king made a motion for her to climb onto him, eyes on the knights. Marianne clambered onto his long form, wrapping her legs around his narrow waist and her arms around his neck. She felt a supportive arm curl around her legs. 

“Hang on!” he roared as he took off just before the knights landed on the branch they had previously been occupying. 

Marianne watched from over his shoulder as their attackers followed, her hair sometimes obstructed her view of the three faries following them. They were weaving through branches and mimicking their movements perfectly, gaining on them. 

“We need to lose them,” she near shouted. Bog only grunted in reply.

They intertwined pair shot up into a tree and landed on a medium sized branch, Bog panting and holding Marianne tight to his chest. 

“Ah think,” he let out a breath. “We lost the-” 

Marianne shouted in warning. In an instant he took flight again, darting around twigs and branches to elude their unwanted followers. Bog sped down the trunk of the tree and continued along the ground, gaining speed. Marianne tossed her head, removing the hair that insisted upon on obscuring her sight. The knights were becoming small dots in the distance. She caressed the back of his neck and soon he began to slow. They stopped atop a rock and she slid off from his chest. The pair watched as the warriors turned and returned from whence they came, disappearing into the orange rays that shone through the. Marianne turned to Bog, shaking hands on his chest. 

"What was that?" 

Bog bit his lip, face ridden with guilt and worry. He turned his gaze to the petite woman grasping at his chest. His expression was conflicted. Part of him seemed to long to tell her what had happened. But the other part...

"We need to get ye back home."  
.  
.  
.  
They were bombarded with questions when they returned. Bog ignored everything to escort Marianne to his room and to command her to get dressed and be ready to leave when he came back. He then left to discuss matters with Stuff and Thang, locking the door behind him. Marianne rested on the door, eyes full of tears that she didn't understand. Wiping her eyes, she limped to the chair by the closet, picking up the grass stained T-shirt off the seat. 

The process of getting her outfit off was as hard if not harder than the process of getting it on. After struggling to get both articles of clothing over swollen limbs, Marianne managed to get her clothes on. It felt strange. The jeans felt different than when she had put them on and the loose shirt felt even more constricting than the top from Bog. 

“It’ll all feel normal once you get home. Right?” The brunette took a seat, resting her head in her hands. 

“Who are you kidding?” she sighed. “This has become home.” Some kind of Stockholm's Syndrome, she thought wryly. She laughed humorlessly at the thought. It wasn’t just that. Flying with Bog, seeing the sky for herself, interacting with the various sprites of this world. Even the mysterious knights made her want to stay. Who could go back to a normal life after an experience like this? Was it even possible? But the real motivation for remaining in the fairy world had locked her in this room. Bog.

She didn’t know what it was but there was something between them that she felt she hadn’t known for centuries. A profound bond that would last no matter the circumstances. It was unlike anything she had felt with anyone before, even her family, even Roland. What was this? 

Her train of thought stopped with a screaming of brakes as the door opened and Bog followed it. He looked weary and stressed. His blue eyes searched the room, warming when they landed on Marianne. They both smiled, their eyes saying more than their lips ever could. I should tell him. I should tell him what I’m feeling. Marianne opened her mouth, ready to confess her roller coaster of emotions to the towering fae king. But he cut her off. 

“We’re ready t' take ye home,” he stated. “Ah'’ll be accompanying ye. Ah’m leavin’-” 

“He’s leaving me in charge while he’s gone!” exclaimed a short creature that came prancing out from behind Bog. Marianne braced herself as best she could as the smiling imp barreled towards her. It stopped mere inches from her,panting and adjusting its dress and flower crown. Marianne opened her eyes and examined the creature before her. It -no, she- had dull red hair, likely a brilliant and fiery red centuries before. The older imp had gorgeous hazel eyes and a warm smile. The petite mortal returned it shyly. 

Bog had finally recovered from his shock and stomped over to the two.  
“Muum,” he whined. Marianne laughed. 

“‘Mum’?” she inquired, eyes flicked back and forth between mother and son. Bog ducked his head, growling. 

“Yes. Marianne,” he said through gritted teeth. “Allow me t’ introduce my mum, G-”

“Griselda!” exclaimed the imp, throwing her hands into the air. Bog growled again. 

“Alrigh’. So, ye’ve met an’ now we really have t’ get going.” The tall fae gently grabbed Marianne’s hand and began slowly dragging her towards the door, talking over his shoulder as he went. “Ah’ll be back soon, Mother.” 

“Wait!” Griselda cried. Bog halted immediately, grumbling curses under his breath. The slapping of little grey feet could be heard from behind them. Bog’s mother stopped behind them, panting. 

 

“I’m coming with you,” she declared. Bog’s voice rose to allow the curses to be heard by not only the occupants of his room but also the entirety of the castle. After several long seconds, he grabbed Marianne’s hand and continued forward, neither accepting nor denying his mother. She smiled and trailed after them, talking all the while.  
.  
.  
.  
The trip out of the forest was uneventful. Marianne and Griselda shared a dragonfly while Bog flew along side them, staff in hand and a determined look about him. Bog shushed his mother every time she opened her mouth, claiming it was so he could hear if anything was coming. Nothing did. 

Marianne snuck glances at Bog every now and then, occasionally catching him in the act of staring as well. When Griselda caught them gazing into eachother’s eyes, she would giggle gleefully and the two would wrench their eyes forward. And so the routine continued until they reached the edge of the forest. A wind drifted through the leaves, creating an almost melancholy sigh. 

“Ah think th’ forest will miss ye,” Bog said as they landed. Marianne smiled as she took his hand and leapt off the insect. Griselda snickered and walked a ways away, humming and looking about as innocent as an imp could. Marianne watched Bog’s mother walk away, then returned her eyes to his. Marianne stepped closer and lowered her voice ever so slightly. 

“I could always stay,” she offered. She bit her lip . Damn it, Marianne. Bog’s eyes widened. 

“Ye-Ye mean it? Ye’d actually stay?” He reached out a hand toward hers, then retracted it. The king cleared his throat. “As must as Ah’d luv for ye to stay…” His eyes said the rest. She needed to go, for her own good. This was no realm for a mortal. 

Marianne nodded, taking a step back. Bog followed her, dipping down to her height and catching her lips with his. Her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply, hands flailing slightly. WhatwhatwhatYESwhat. The shock resided and instinct kicked in. She eagerly returned the kiss, hands finding his neck as her eyes drifted shut. He dropped his staff and wrapped an arm around her waist and the other combed through her hair, claws scratching her scalp. We shouldn't be doing this. Marianne shivered and deepened the kiss. We shouldn't be doing this. They came up for air and again their lips met. It was something she felt she remembered, how his tongue darted across her teeth and fought with hers. How they fit oh so perfectly, no matter their height. We should be doing this. 

A few more blissful moments passed before Bog broke away, wrapping her up in a tight embrace. 

“Thank ye. Thank ye...for everything,” he muttered into her hair. She sighed into his chest, inhaling the mossy musk that he emitted. Tears pricked at her eyes as they broke apart. Marianne sniffed and wiped at her eyes as he watched. 

“Walk me to the door?” she asked with a shaky smile. He chuckled sadly and gestured towards the sky. 

The world became an upward blur and then she was her normal height and the trees were no longer skyscrapers to her. She turned to find a man with a long face and nose, with cobalt blue eyes and a stubbly beard. He was incredibly tall and lanky. The man wore an old, brown leather jacket over a plaid shirt and dark wash jeans. A large hand ran through spiky black and grey hair and took a flat cap out of his jacket pocket, flipping it onto his head. 

Marianne examined him, chewing her lip. Soft skin and no claws. Human features, human clothes. No more angles or magic. If she tilted her head, she could almost see the bark crown, the thin waist and long, sharp claws underneath the human he had become. She couldn't decide which form she preferred just yet. 

"It's rude t' stare, luv." Marianne's eyes darted up to his. 

"Oh, I-" 

Bog simply smiled and offered a hand. Marianne took it, returning the smile. They began to walk forward, fingers intertwined and Marianne's head on his shoulder when the dragonfly darted in front of Bog, refusing to be shooed. He sighed and made the same upward motion. In an instant, Griselda appeared, red hair in a tight bun and clad in a white dress. She smiled happily at her son while waving the shocked dragonfly off. 

“Thank you, darling.” 

Bog growled in response. Griselda latched onto his other arm and together, they marched toward the farm house. As they neared the door, Bog shook his mother off and gently released Marianne’s hand. They shared one last reluctant smile and walked their separate ways. Marianne paused at the door, watching the pair walk off, torn between calling to them and leaving her family behind. A piece of her yearned for him, for the forest, for the adventure, for everything that he had introduced her to. But she knew it wasn’t her place as a mortal. She turned solemnly back to her home and was just about to knock on the door when it swung open, revealing a furious and confused Agatha, accompanied by an ecstatic Sunny and Dawn. 

“Where have you been?” Agatha snapped. The maid’s angry eyes slid off of Marianne and fell on the retreating forms of mother and son. 

“Oi!” Pushing past Marianne, she stomped after the two while Dawn and Sunny tackled their sister with a hug. Marianne ignored their questions and watched with worry etched into her features as Agatha interrogated Bog and his mother. 

“Who’s at the door?” a familiar voice called from the kitchen. 

Dawn called back, “It’s Marianne, Grandma Coria! Marianne’s back!” 

A shout and the sound of breaking china could be heard from the kitchen as the old woman ordered someone to push her to the front door. The light fell on her smiling face first. 

“Marianne,” she said gayly, arms outstretched. The petite woman slipped out of her family’s embrace and quickly walked into the house the hug her grandmother. She held her tight, a hand supporting her head, tangled in her hair. 

“Och, welcome back m’luv,” she whispered. “Ah was worried.” 

Marianne laughed into Coria’s shoulder, pushing herself back to smile at the woman. 

“Why? I was only gone a couple of-” The rest of her sentence stopped as her eyes drifted to the person who held the handles of her grandmother’s wheelchair. 

“Why, hello there, buttercup,” came the southern drawl. “Fancy meetin’ you here.” 

A wet smack, a cry of pain, and a thump brought everyone inside to find Marianne barely restrained by her grandmother’s frail grip while Roland was sprawled on the ground behind Coria’s wheelchair, writhing dramatically. 

“She broke by dose,” he said nasally. “The pitch punched by in the fuckin’ dose.” 

“You watch your profanity, young man,” Agatha scolded, kneeling to help him while Sunny wheeled Coria out of the way. Dawn hovered behind Agatha’s shoulder, glancing up long enough to see the strange man help Marianne take Coria’s place in restraining the wild girl and wrap his arms around her. She cocked her head as she saw her sister instantly relax. 

Coria turned her head to the strangers, eyelids low as she regarded them with cautious familiarity . 

“Sunny, why don’t you show our guests to the kitchen and put the kettle on? I suspect we have much to talk about.”

Despite their sorry excuses, Coria made Bog and Griselda sit down at the little table and then had Marianne wheel her into the empty spot. With a wave of her hand, Coria sent Sunny away to the next room. As he closed the door behind him, the old woman turned her sharp gaze to the three seated before her. 

"Now. Who wants to explain to me why the hell my granddaughter went missing for three months." 

Marianne balked, turning first to Bog then to her grandmother. 

"Three months? I was only gone for two days!" 

Bog rested a hand on her forearm, his blue eyes on Coria. 

"Ah should've told ye...time works differently in Th' Forest. What is to us but a week is to mortals...more than half a year." 

Marianne gapped at Bog then turned to her grandmother, who was glaring at Bog.

"While that's all very well and good, luv, that wasn't quite an answer. Why the hell was my granddaughter in your Forest?" 

The king growled low in his chest and Marianne cleared her throat, putting a hand on his.

"Why don't I start?" she offered, giving Bog some time to cool down. She told her grandmother about her adventure, how she had encountered one of Bog's subjects, how they brought her into the forest and locked her up. Bog took it from there, telling Coria the events that followed while Griselda added her own location and activities during. When they had finished their tale, Marianne's grandmother looked at all three of them with a bemused look. 

"Quite the adventure ye've had, luvs." Her brown eyes flicked to Bog. "So tell me, yer highness, when we're time going to tell yer," the sharp eyes dropped down to his hand intertwined with Marianne's. "Friend what the hell is going on then?"

Bog turned to the petite woman, mouth opening and closing, but no words falling out. Coria sighed and opened her mouth to speak, but Marianne interjected.

"Ok, what?" She pointed to her grandmother. "So you. You know them. And you know everything about this?" 

"Of course, dear. What, you think I've been living here since I was born and not noticed the strange happenings? I've known these two for years." 

Griselda smiled and reached out a hand to pat Coria's. 

"Unfortunately," the old woman added. Bog's mother sneered and retracted her hand. Marianne turned to Bog. 

"And what are you supposed to tell me?" Bog chewed his lip and looked to his mother, who shrugged. "Well?" 

Coria let out a deep breath. "I've been hard on them. It's...a touchy subject. Even for me. Remember the rhyme your mother used to tell you? Well it's not just a fairy tale."  
.  
.  
.  
The cheers faded into the background as their lips met, two extremes in harmony with a simple touch. They broke apart and looked down at their now silent friends, family, and subjects. They were silent and for a moment both of their hearts stopped in fear of being again the odd ones out. And then the crowd burst into even louder applause. Dark fae embraced the fairies of the field. The king and Griselda stood next to each other, eyes shining with tears of joy. Marianne and Bog watched as they turned to one another and shook hands. 

Marianne turned to Bog, a grin on her lips. Bog couldn’t help but be infected with her joy and he smiled back. She launched herself forward, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. He slowly wrapped his hands around her waist and settled into the hug. She shifted to kissed his cheek. 

“I love you,” she declared softly.  
.  
.  
.  
The sound of the ball was cut short by the closing of a heavy wood door. Marianne, clad in a long, layered dress of sheer purple flowers the complimented her wings, approached Bog. He was leaning on his hands, which were planted on the desk, arms shaking, breath coming in and out in rasps. The petite woman came up behind him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He placed his own over it and sighed, his breathing finally reaching a semblance of normality.

“What’s wrong, Bog?” Marianne asked softly, squeezing his shoulder. 

“Ah-it’s nothin’, luv. Let’s get out there and entertain th’ guests.” He pushed off the desk and made his way towards the door. Marianne stopped him, small hands on his chest, golden-brown eyes on his blue ones. 

“Oh no. You’re not shaking this one off. You do this every time we have one of these balls. What’s wrong?” 

Bog sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Ah just...Ah feel like they’re judging me. I see their eyes on me, following my every move waiting for me to trip. Even after the formal apology, even after yer father declared us joint rulers of my realm and yers, Ah feel...out of place. We have these parties to promote peace or alliances and I feel like I jeopardize those possibilities by simply being there. I dorn’t want t’ deal with a war, Marianne. We’ve had enough hostility in our own borders because of Roland and his promise of rebellion.” He sighed and sank into the couch. Marianne joined him and wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders. 

“I know how you feel. It’s such a burden and it makes everyday tasks seem difficult, knowing dozens of eyes are on you, just waiting for you to make a mistake. But I know that we can get through this. We have each other to lean on right?” Bog just nodded sullenly. Marianne took his hand. “Always.” 

The king allowed a small smile to dance on his lips. “Always,” he replied. 

The princess stood in a swirl of purple petals, a hand outstretched to her partner. 

“C’mon. The pixies are waiting and I’d hate to see their faces get any more sour.” Bog chuckled and took the offered hand, pulling himself into her lips. They shared a quick kiss before breaking apart. 

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he whispered. 

“I ask myself the same question every day,” Marianne said softly. 

After one more kiss, the couple emerged from the study and were greeted by the light music and the chatter of their people.  
.  
.  
.  
Today was the day. He had asked Marianne to meet him in the place where they shared their first kiss. It was a warm, sunny day and the light filtered through the green leaves to create ever changing patterns on the forest floor. He fidgeted with the small ring of carved wood with a rough cut amber chunk as the centerpiece. They had been together for almost two years now. It was time. He slipped the delicate thing into a soft pouch and closed his fist around it. 

“Bog?” came a familiar voice. Bright blue eyes fell on his beloved, clothed in light, airy clothes for the summer. She looked beautiful. Dawn had obviously made sure that she would look perfect. She could probably tell what he was planning. He smiled and shook his head as he flew to meet Marianne.

They fell into a tight embrace and landed. Marianne smiled. 

“So, what are we doing here? Sparing? Dawn didn’t let me bring my sword but you know....it doesn’t have to be that kind of sparing,” she said with low eyelids. Bog chuckled. 

“Quite the flirt aren’t we, Tough Girl?” Marianne laughed at that and gave him a quick kiss. 

“Hmmm...ok, so why are we actually here?” 

Suddenly Bog’s mind went blank. What to say? He allowed the ring to fall out of the pouch and into his palm. 

“Ah...we’ve been together awhile now and Ah...Ah’ve enjoyed every moment. Ye’ve lit up my world, Marianne, opened my eyes and allowed me t’ see everything in a new light. There’s never a dull moment with ye in my life. Ah dorn’t think Ah would be able to survive without my Tough Girl to support me and...and Ah hope ye feel the same, because Ah will never leave yer side for as long as I live.” Bog knelt, Marianne’s slender hand in his clawed one. He slipped the ring onto her finger and with a hopeful grin, gazed up at his smiling girl. 

“So...Ah was wondering if ye would do me th’ honor of...of being my wife?” 

Marianne opened her mouth but her response was drowned by several silver clad knights banging their shields with the hilts of their swords. Bog was up in an instant, a protective arm in front of the petite fairy with flared wings.

“Roland,” she hissed at the appearance of her ex. He was bearded and looked a little worse for wear but there was no doubt who was gliding out of the branches of the oak like some sort of king. 

“Well, hello, buttercup. Fancy meetin’ you here. And you too Bug.” Roland landed next to the princess, sword drawn.

“Bog,” Bog growled, muscles taut, eyes flashing. 

“Oof he’s quite the beast, eh boys?” The rebels laughed like it was scripted. Bog wouldn’t have been surprised if Roland had practiced his lines with his men more that once. 

“What do you want, Roland?” Marianne spat, a sneer distorting her features. 

“Why, your hand in marriage, buttercup. And if not, well.” He snapped his fingers and two of his lackeys seized Marianne by the wrists and hauled her into the sky. Bog leapt forward but Roland held his sword to his throat. 

 

“Ah, ah, ah, Bug man. I’ll have none of that.” He turned his eyes to Marianne. “So, my sweet, what’ll it be? Marry me or watch your king die and then die yourself. Seems fair right, buttercup? Seems reasonable and fair and logical?” His voice reached a high pitch. “Logical, like you forgetting about me and hooking up with this freak. Giving him your kingdom, your army, your body.” He laughed manically. “Don’t worry, buttercup. I forgive you. I’m giving you a second chance, see? See how kind and giving I can be? See? See?” Marianne watched in horror as Roland gazed with a glassy look in his eyes. 

“I’ll always love you, Marianne. More than this creature ever could. I’m the one for you,” he enunciated. 

Her gold-brown eyes fell on Bog’s blue ones. 

“No,” he whispered. She smiled sadly and looked to Roland  
.  
.  
.  
“Ah...Ah told her no. Ah told her not to do what Ah knew she was thinking. Because I know my tough girl and she...she just.” He sighed. “She...she told him she’d rather die than marry him. And he just...ran her through.”  
.  
.  
.  
Her body fell as if in a dream. The sound on her body hitting the ground coincided with the sound of Bog’s heart shattering. He released a scream of agony, like some part of his body had been severed, a clean cut. And in a sense, it was. 

Without a second thought, his claws were embedded in Roland’s back. The blonde gasped in shock, his legs giving out beneath him. His men snatched him up and scattered leaving Bog shouting curses and screaming in their wake. The King knelt by his dying lover. 

“Marianne, och, Marianne. Yer alrigh’, yer alrigh’. Shhhh…” Tears pricked his eyes as he watched blood seep into the white, dead veins of her gown. She was dying. Marianne coughed and smiled weakly up at Bog. 

“I...I would have said yes,” she rasped. “I would have made you the happiest man in the world.” Marianne coughed again. “I,” she gargled, choking on her own blood. “I love you,” she declared softly. The princess sighed her last and became limp in Bog’s arms. 

“No,” he whimpered. “No. No, nonononono.” He grasped at her body, shaking her slightly. “No, no. No. Marianne. Marianne.” 

Bog ran a hand over her eyes, knowing that he would never again see her gold brown eyes. Never again hear her laugh or voice. Never again feel her warmth beside him, her hand on his shoulder, feel her support or her lips pressed so tight against his. Never hear the patter of their children’s feet down the palace halls, never grow old together. An entire future wiped away. 

“Never,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Ah’ll never fall in love again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so...I promised several people and myself more than a month ago that I'd post this chapter soon. *loud whisper* I'm sorry. 
> 
> I do hope it was worth the wait. Also, I'm sorry for the wait. I can't promise constant updates but I can hint at ButterfulyBog one shots every now and then. (Possibly ones that elaborate on the events before and after this story) (???????) (imayhavesomealreadyivejustbeentoshytopostthem) 
> 
> Love to everyone, don't forget to leave a kudos and/or a comment, hearing what you guys think makes my heart sing.


	5. In Which Marianne Becomes Marianne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aka: In Which the Author Violently Shoves as Many Feels as Possible into One Chapter

Marianne stood, her wooden chair falling to the ground with an ear splitting  _ crack _ . She stumbled down the hall and out into the crisp autumn air.  __ Her legs carried her beyond the driveway, past the barn where the horses nickered at the sound of her feet on gravel, past the shed, farther and farther until they stopped at the edge of the forest. Hazel eyes gazed at the vast expanse of tall trees as she panted, body limp. Summer had passed her by. The leaves were losing their grip on the branches and flying on the wind to their final resting place. Lithe hands gripped opposite arms. 

 

“How?” Marianne whispered. “I was only gone two days.”   _ Three months,  _ that little voice in her head said.

 

Her eyes pricked with tears, she sniffed. The forest released a groan that matched her melancholy feeling and the corners of her mouth twitched with a smile in spite of the tears. Marianne collapsed at the base of a tree, leaning into the slim but sturdy trunk and looked up into the leaves. There she remained, salty tears gliding down cheeks, arms wrapped tight around her as she gazed up into the endless patterns that the wind created in the leaves and branches above. 

 

Bog found her eventually. The king didn’t speak. He simply removed his jacket and gently wrapped it around her shaking shoulders. He released a weary sigh as he sank down next to her. Hesitantly, as if he was afraid she would blow away in the wind if he touched her, he clasped her unbruised hand in his. Her cold digits slowly tightened around his warm hand. The full moon cast silvery light upon the couple, the forest, the leaves and branches of the tree they rested under. There they remained in a silence that seemed to mute even the sounds of the wind, the leaves, the creatures of the forest. A blanket of quiet fell over their world. 

 

As the moon rose high overhead, her eyes felt heavy and her head lolled to the side as the day’s adventure finally took it’s toll on her. Sleep took her and her head fell onto Bog’s shoulder. He looked fondly down at her and planted a light kiss upon her head. After an hour more, the King of the Fae gathered the sleeping mortal into his arms and carried her home. 

.

.

.

She was her. The woman who was her but not her. Her eyes were her own, her arms and legs, everything was her’s but her skin was without blemish, her vision sharper, colors more vibrant. Everything was the same but more. Her eyes flicked up to meet Bog’s. Gods, he was even more handsome like this. His eyes were bluer and oh, the emotions that they held. There was no pain. There was no longing, no memory of the Marianne was. There was only love. Pure, unabashed, new love, that had her heart racing. She wished she could see him like this always. Their faces near one another's and and their lips met. And a cheer could be heard, louder than one in her world would be. They broke apart and embraced. She buried her face in the crook of his neck as his arms wrapped tight around her. 

 

“I love you,” she whispered, planting a small kiss on the soft flesh of his neck. When she drew away, there was blood where he lips had been. Marianne gasped and darted back. Bog was frozen, staring in horror at her abdomen. She followed his gaze. Blood coated her front, oozing from a wound at her left side. She croaked his name and plummeted into the blackness below, his roar of agony following her into her waking.         

 

She awoke on the hardwood floor of her room. Dawn was at her side, concern etched into her features. Her brow twitched as she reacted to Marianne’s eyes. But the curiosity was gone, replaced with a sibling’s sincerity. “Marianne! Thank goodness you’re awake!” She pulled her older sister into an awkward hug. Marianne, heart still racing, side still screaming in phantom pain, gripped her sister tight. She sniffed while her sister petted her hair, humming and whispering words of comfort. Two hours later, they were sitting on Marianne’s bed, while Dawn told her everything that had gone on in the three weeks Marianne was gone. She ended her tale with Marianne’s appearance last night. 

 

“Where were you, Mari? We...I was so worried.” The pain that was squatting in her sister’s eyes did nothing to help ease Marianne’s conscious. But what could she tell her? She wasn’t going to tell her about the two days she spent in Bog’s world. That was...too difficult to explain and too hard to understand. It was still hard for her to comprehend. Marianne smiled tightly. 

 

“I...fell when I was in the forest. Bo-Mr. Bog and his family were kind enough to...to help me set my leg. I had...broken my phone in the fall and they don’t have any cell service where they live and they don’t have a car so there was no way of getting to Coria’s until I was better. I’m...I’m sorry. I would have contacted you but…” She ducked her head. It wasn’t far from the truth, right? Everything she had said was true. She just...forgot to tell her about the whole different world thing. And the fact that her host was the King. That’s all. 

 

Dawn obviously didn’t buy that feeble attempt at an excuse but she let it go. No point in pushing. For now. Instead, her face crumpled with sympathy and she whispered, “Oh, Marianne.” Dawn clasped Marianne’s hand in her’s.  _ Twang _ . Damned heartstrings. The brunette’s cheek twitched and she smiled sadly. She looked longingly at the bed and her younger sister caught the message. She helped her sister into bed and was about to leave the room when Marianne weakly called to her. 

 

“Dawn…” The brunette chewed her lip. She was never the one to do this but considering the circumstances. “Will you sing to me?” Dawn’s face split into a kind smile as she walked across the room. As she crawled into the bed with Marianne, she whispered, “Always, big sister.” The blonde began to hum the lullaby that their mother had sung to Marianne and the song that Marianne sang to Dawn on stormy nights. The brunette sank into a blissfully dreamless sleep to her sister’s sweet voice. 

.

.

.

The next morning, Coria refused to allow Marianne out of her room until she spoke to her father. Marianne begrudgingly took Dawn’s cell phone and locked herself into the guest bedroom. She paced around the room, nerves making it almost impossible to stay still as the phone rang and rang. 

 

“Hello?” came a very weary voice. She opened her mouth but no words came out. What to say? ‘Hey, Dad. I’m not dead but I have been exposed to the magical fairy land of Scotland. Also my kind of boyfriend is the King of the Fae and he’s a little older than me by a few thousand years. What’s up with you?’ “Hello?” he repeated, tone shaded with irritation. 

 

“H-Hey, Daddy,” Marianne said softly. A gasp and the sound of the phone being dropped. He took a few steadying breaths before picking up the device again. 

 

“My girl, my darling girl,” he half sobbed. Tears sprung to Marianne’s eyes at how  _ broken _ her father sounded. There was a silence on both ends as they both simply listened to their stifled sobs. After a long ten minutes, he said, “I was so worried that you were gone. That you had just left me like your mother had. You left for your trip on such a bad note, I was terrified that-” 

 

“You weren’t able to say good-bye. That our last words to each other would be hateful ones,” she finished. Nothing on the other end. Then, “What happened? Where were you all this time?” Again with this. What was there to say? Her early morning excuse to Dawn would not fly with her father. He was always good at telling when she was lying. Marianne sighed and ran a hand through her hair. 

 

“I-I can’t really say over the phone. It’s an impossibly long story.” A sigh at the other end of the phone, one that always followed any of her excuses. She pursed her lips but continued. “But just know that I’m alright and that Coria is taking very good care of me.” He grunted and said good-bye. “Wait! Dad?” 

 

“Yes?” he muttered. Marianne took a breath and said the words that she had sworn off since Roland. “I love you.” It was quiet on the other end until he chuckled. “I love you too, Marianne.” 

 

Her phone beeped after he hung up. Marianne took the phone away from her ear and stared at the black screen, tears sliding down her cheeks. At least she had been able to tell him that. She wiped the droplets off her face and dabbed at her eyes. Time to face the rest of her family and  _ him.  _ The brunette took a deep breath and opened the door with renewed energy. 

 

_ Roland  _ fell into her room. Her joyful energy soon turned to rage as he gazed up at her with suave green eyes. How long had he been out here? Had he heard everything?  _ Likely waiting for the best chance to barge in and attempt to win my heart.  _ Marianne’s vision shook as adrenaline corsed through her veins. Roland stood slowly, hands raised in a surrender. He looked at her as if she were a feral tiger, a force of nature impossible to tame. She rather liked that look in his eyes. Fear was good. 

 

“Now, buttercup, ‘fore you get your panties in a twist-”  

 

“That is it!” she roared, taking hold of the collar of his shirt. She dragged him down the stairs, deaf to his protests and the shouts of her family. Marianne hauled him through the hall and out the door, pushing him down the stairs of the porch. He landed on his sorry ass with a satisfying  _ thump _ . The man had finally learned when to stay down. Roland remained in the dust, eyes pleading with the divine being that stood above him. Marianne placed her hands on her hips and raised her chin, a sneer on her lips, golden eyes looking down on the man who she had spent far too many nights crying over. Her companions huddled in the doorway, even Agatha. No one dared set foot on the porch, which was right now her throne room. No one dared disturb the wrathful queen that stood before them.  

 

No one but the Bog King, who made his way past his mother, Coria, and Sunny to stand behind Marianne, a large hand on the small of her back, offering both support and reminding restraint. She didn’t acknowledge his presence but she leaned back ever so slightly into his hand. Roland sneered. “I knew there was something going on between you and-” 

 

“You will not speak to me like that,” she said over his voice. He  _ shrunk.  _ “You will not speak to me or my family ever again after today. You will leave Scotland and you will go back to South Carolina, where I expect you to stay.” She allowed a sickly sweet smile to spread across her face as she continued, “I’ll let you use your wild imagination to think of the things I’ll do if I see your face again.” Roland gulped and scrambled to his feet. He opened his mouth to shoot one final comment in her direction then thought better of it. The blonde turned tail and ran down the driveway. As his head disappeared, Marianne exhaled and leaned into Bog. A long supportive arm wrapped around her shoulders and his lips were in her hair. “Did I do alright?” she whispered. He chuckled and squeezed her. “Ye did perfectly.” 

 

Someone in the doorway pointedly cleared their throat and the two stepped away from each other. Griselda stepped out onto the deck and hugged Marianne. She offered no words, just a hug that said it all. Eventually both Sunny and Dawn came onto the deck as well and embraced their sister. Coria remained in the doorway. She met Bog’s eyes and nodded to the king, a small smile dancing on her lips. Bog cleared his throat and muttered under his breath, “If Ah may speak with Marianne privately for a moment.” Dawn and Sunny shared a look and released Marianne, Griselda doing the same. She clapped her hand quietly and beamed at Bog. He made a face and offered his hand to Marianne and they walked to the forest.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *disgusted noise*   
> -  
> Thank you for reading! Don't forget to drop a kudos and/or a comment! Much love.


	6. In Which the Queen Speaks

They walked hand in hand deeper into the forest. His glamour had melted off as soon as they were out of sight; pale skin gave way to rough, brown edges, wings sprouted from his shoulder blades, and his clothes dissipated into the cool autumn air as they walked deeper into the forest. Marianne watched as Bog ground his teeth in thought, a smile tugging at her lips. She squeezed his hand and Bog’s gaze met with hers. The pair shared a smile before returning their gaze to the forest. Marianne watched as tall grass bowed away from her feet and leaves made way for her each and every footstep, rendering each footfall quiet. The forest knew she was back. They walked into a clearing filled with pollen caught in the last of the afternoon sunlight.

“I’ll never get over just how beautiful the forest is,” Bog sighed. He sat on a tree stump, resting his elbows on his knees. Marianne took the staff from his hands, leaning on is as she stood before him. “I think I’ve seen every inch of it and then something new always appears. I like to believe it’s a living, breathing thing, made up of each and every soul that has ever passed here. Every time their essence joins that of the forest, something new appears. That’s…that’s been happening more and more since the war. I—I like to think that this place is hers. Yours.”

 

They looked out to the strange blue flowers that grew on the borders of the clearing. They seemed to glow with a light of their own. Ferns poked out here and there, connected by bejeweled spider webs. Marianne smiled at the feeling of comfort that the place radiated. She could almost hear a tune being hummed. Every time she tried to listen, only the rustling sound of the leaves in the tree would meet her ears. She sat down next to Bog, taking his hand in hers. He looked up at her and she offered him a reassuring smile.

 

“This clearing appeared right after…well. No matter our denomination, the forest is still our home.” He bowed his head and gulped. “I wish…I wish our ‘enemies’ would see that. Very few choose to remember when our kingdoms were united. We were stronger. And not only that, the forest thrived. It stayed green long after the beginning of the winter months and was in full bloom before the Spring Equinox. People were happier. But some prefer to forget those days in favor of outdated prejudices. This war needs to end, not only for my people’s benefit and theirs but for the benefit of the forest. Our lives are connected to that of this land whether we like it or not and if they could just see that then…” Tears dripped down his nose. “Then maybe her death wouldn’t be in vain.”

 

“Hey.” Marianne whispered, moving to kneel before him. Her thumb caught the tears running down his cheeks. He refused to meet her eyes as she murmured aimless words of comfort. She stood up on her knees to embrace the broken king. Bog sobbed quietly into her shoulder, clawing at her shirt and holding her tight to his chest. Marianne hummed in his ear, scratching his back with her nails in slow circles. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his.

 

“I know you must feel so helpless. Like there’s this nagging feeling that you’re supposed to do something about this and why aren’t you doing it. You’ve been by yourself for so long, Bog. You…you feel responsible for this big forest that keeps growing and growing and all that weight is on your shoulders. You’ve been carrying it alone, Bog. This war? Isn’t something that you can end by yourself. Thankfully, you’ve so many wonderful people at your fingertips. Stuff, Thang, your mother…me.”

 

_…dancing at twilight with Bog, clawed hands on her hips, compliment on his lips. A shared smile and a kiss. He hovers them above the branch, the train of her whisper soft gown barely brushing the bark. Humming a tune together, the notes twirling on the rays of moonlight..._

“My love, I’m so sorry that I was taken from you when I was. You’ve done so well without me. I’ve watched you become such a strong leader. All of your people would be lost without you. You’ve protected them well. But Bog, this cannot last forever. The forest cannot be at war. She aches for her children and this unnatural loss of life weakens her.”

_…he pulls on her hand, she almost trips on a twig, a hand over her eyes, laughter bubbles from her lips. Surprise! Family smiling, laughter, soft afternoon light in the tree. Those sweet cakes her mother made her on her birthday, the recipe discovered by a senior chef…child tugs at her skirt, arms reaching, reaching. She stoops and scoops the little elf girl into her arms and hands her a cake. Sunny and Dawn smile from afar, while Bog plants a kiss on the child’s forehead…_

“Bog, this woman is willing to give up her mortal life in exchange for an eternal one here, with you. We are one in the same. Part of me, for whatever reason, was sent into the mortal realm. I had, I believe, unfinished business that was just too important to complete from within the forest. She has learned much in the outside world. This Marianne knows how to help you. You must let her.”

_…they hate parties but this one is special. Sunny sings a happy tune with Dawn, their child dances for the crowd. Monsters jig with fae, a beautiful harmony. They watch from above, perched on a roof, fingers intertwined. He murmurs something in her ear and she grins. Up on their feet, taking flight to the stage to preform their duet…_

 

                  “I miss you so much, Bog. I cannot express how proud I am of all that you’ve accomplished. You will accomplish so much more with this woman—with me by your side.”

 

Marianne gently pushed herself away from Bog. His face was slack and tears flowed down his cheeks. She smiled and wiped the tears away from his cheeks.

 

“I love you, Bog.”

 

“I—I love you too, Marianne.”

 

The Queen gave him one last smile before falling forward into the King’s arms.

-                -                -

                

“Marianne? Marianne!” Bog’s hands were on her shoulders, his claws dug into the soft flesh of her back. The pricks helped ground her. She griped his wrists for balance.

 

“I’m alright. I’m alright.” Marianne kept her eyes closed as she tried to recall the events before. Her eyes flew open as he inhaled sharply. His cobalt eyes are wide and focused behind her. His mouth hung open and new tears sprung to his eyes.

 

“Oh, Marianne,” he whispers. “Your _wings_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience with my crazy life. I never had time to work on this fic and when I did, I wasn't inspired. During my down months, your comments and kudos made my heart sing. So thank you, thank you, thank you one and all. I just rewatched Strange Magic (much to my family's chagrin) and finished this chapter in record time (but still put crazy thought into it, promise). 
> 
> Lots of lofe, 
> 
> devilsadvocate


	7. In Which His Story Repeats Itself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE BE WARNED OF THE:   
> -GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE  
> IN THIS CHAPTER. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

“My what?” She frowned and turned her head. Huge violet wings had sprung from her shoulders. Marianne gasped and they flared in response. She let out a breathless laugh and squeezed Bog’s wrists. His hands dropped from her shoulders as she stepped back to flutter them, the breeze they caused stirring the red and gold and orange leaves up into the night air. Marianne giggled and grabbed Bog’s hand. He gripped it tight and murmured, “Try to fly.” 

Marianne flapped her wings harder, still holding Bog’s hand. She rose a few inches off the ground then returned to the earth. Though her flight was short and graceless, a huge grin spread across her face as she looked up at Bog. She caught the flash of that flicked across his face before it was replaced with a grin that almost matched hers in intensity. He pulled her into his chest, the sigh that followed the embrace disturbing her hair. 

“Oh, my Marianne.” She hummed and settled into his arms, squeezing her eyes shut. A rich chuckle emerged from his lips and he held her tighter still. She was back. He didn’t want to think about the family that she was leaving for him nor the rage that her grandmother would have. Right now, he just wanted to enjoy the feeling of his love in his arms, alive and well. He wanted to think about experiencing life with her again, enjoying the forest and discovering its secrets, and most of all, brokering a peace between the warring fae. 

“Marianne,” he whispered into her hair. “I—I know that this is…going to be strange and difficult for you to adjust to life here in the forest…with me. I know that you’ll be leaving your mortal family behind and all that you’re familiar with. I cannot begin to imagine how difficult that will be for you but I just want you to know that…that I will always be here to listen and comfort you. I promise you…I will never let you go. Never again.” Her only response was to hug him tighter. Bog laughed and rubbed her back, wishing the tears would stop sliding down his cheeks. Marianne stepped out of the embrace and grabbed his hand. “C’mon, you. Teach me to fly.” 

Bog snorted. “Is that any way to address your king?” He struck a proud pose and she snickered. 

“It is if you’re his queen.” Marianne gave him a warm smile and released his hand. She reached up and wiped away his tears with her thumb. “C’mon. Let’s stretch our wings.” She dropped her wings and turned her back to him. He stepped forward, pulling her into his chest like he had when he had first showed her the forest. “Ready?” he asked, giving her a little squeeze. She hummed her anticipation and he took off into the dark sky, Marianne’s gasp melding with the rustle of the leaves they disturbed below. As the couple rose higher and higher into the sky, the clearing they had occupied quickly became part of the forest once more; the only proof of its existence a single midnight flower. 

The pair soared through the sky, immune to the cold air and the idea that they could be attacked at any moment. They spun, becoming smaller, and dove into the depths of the forest. Even without the marvels that existed in the fairy’s circle, the forest was quite the sight at night. It appeared to glow and the forest creatures, seeming to rejoice at the return of a powerful force, came out to play. Bats darted overhead, their cries weaving together with the hoots of the owls and the chirping crickets to create an eerie forest symphony. Marianne pointed to the branch of a large oak tree. She gave Bog’s wrist a reassuring squeeze. “I just want to land, love.” 

After they settled onto the thick branch, Bog released his staff. It stood on its own, emitting a low glow. Marianne regarded the staff out of the corner of her eye. “Strange magic,” she muttered. The royal couple faced one another, grasping one another’s hands and beaming. Marianne bit her bottom lip and took a breath when their moment was ruined. 

“Well, isn’t this a pretty picture,” drawled a haughty Southern accent. The couple jumped apart, the king taking a defensive stance, tattered wings flared, one spindly arm thrown out to block Marianne from any harm while the other grabbed his staff. Marianne starred at the speaker from behind Bog. There were two Roldands. One was the Roland who she had very recently thrown out of her grandmother’s house. His eyes were wide as he struggled to take in the scene before him. He shook in the arms of his captor, leaning far from the blade at his throat. But the other Roland was different. His blond hair had turned nearly white. Scars, burns, and pre-mature wrinkles mangled his once appealing face. And of course, there was the fact that this Roland had butterfly wings. They were pale green, reminding her of split pea soup. They were almost as torn at Bog’s. 

“Roland,” Bog snarled. “What are you doing in my kingdom?” The former knight completely ignored the king’s demand, instead focusing on the purple wings. His eyes were full of lust as they dragged up and down her figure. Marianne instinctually pressed herself against Bog’s back. The blond’s lips curled, further disfiguring his features. 

“Of course you would still be drawn to this beast,” he spat. Fairy Roland grinned and held the sword closer to his double’s neck. Roland whimpered and mouthed pleading words at Marianne. “I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I just—” 

“No!” Marianne ducked under Bog’s arm and leapt forward. The king attempted to catch her wrist but she shook him off, flaring her wings. Bog stumbled back, gripping his staff tighter, prepared for an attack. “Please, Roland, you don’t have to hurt him. He’s not part of this. Just let him go.” 

The fairy regarded her with eyes like ice. She held his gaze, fists balled, body tense. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands. Fairy Roland snorted and pushed the human version of him towards Marianne. She caught him and helped the shaking blond to the ground, keeping her eyes on the fairy’s blade. Roland scrabbled towards Bog, blubbering about wings and a fear of heights. 

“Bog, take him back to the house,” Marianne said in a steady tone. Bog gritted his teeth but knew better than to argue. Centuries couldn’t dull the memory of the consequences of disobeying that tone. He simply had to hope.

“C’mon you,” he growled as he hoisted the shaking blond into his arms and strode away, sparing one last glance at the two fairies before delving into the forest.   
.  
.  
.

Roland spoke first. 

“So ‘mah Marianne’, it seems you’ve returned to my forest. Miss me?” He flashed the winning smile that she remembered melting her heart. She refused to reply. Roland shrugged and dove forward, sword aimed at her chest. Marianne leapt back, wings further distancing her from the shining blade. She almost pitched over the edge of the branch and Roland took his chance, lunging again at her. Marianne toppled over and fell with Roland in hot pursuit. She turned over and almost froze at the sight of the fast approaching forest floor. Her instincts—or maybe it was the Queen—took over and she extended her wings. Marianne banked and Roland zoomed past her. By the time he looked up, Marianne was flying sloppily into the woods. Roland whistled and his men flew with him after Marianne.

She was rising and falling erratically, her weak wings making it difficult to escape. Marianne could hear Roland’s shouts behind her and the clanking of his men’s armor. 

“What do I do, what do I do, what can I do!” she cried to the empty forest. An arrow whistled past her, twisting in the night air and falling to the ground. Twisting…of course! She flapped her wings harder, rising into the air and then propelled herself down. The forest spun around her and she closed her eyes with one word in her mind: big. She hit the ground and rolled. The brunette scrambled to her feet, crunching the leaves beneath her normal sized shoes. She didn’t have time to recover as a normal sized arrow embedded itself in her left thigh. A cry escaped her throat and she grabbed at the wound, stumbling forward. She flapped her wings hard. Through her tears, the trees seemed to make way for her, the ground moved faster than she flew. She spared a glance behind her and saw only darkness. When she turned around, the house’s lights were straight ahead. She gave one last burst of speed, biting her lip at the pain. When she neared the back lawn, she shouted, “Bog! Dawn, Sunny, anyone!” A shadow crossed the curtained window and she almost laughed with relief. Bog, disguised but still such a welcome sight, threw open the door. 

“Marianne!” he cried, running out onto the porch. She had almost reached the steps, reaching for Bog’s outstretched hand, when another hand snatched her left shoulder. Marianne shrieked at the intensity of Roland’s grip. She felt herself being tugged into the air when another force pulled her down. Bog had grabbed her ankle. Roland snarled and unsheathed his sword. 

“I hate to separate such a pretty face from such a perfect body but…” As he raised his sword, a bolt pierced his right eye. 

“That was for my wife, you bastard!” cried a voice that sounded like Agatha. Roland released Marianne’s shoulder to clutch at his newest wound. The petite woman landed on Bog. He recovered quickly and scooped her up, running into the house and slamming the door shut. The king ran into the living room, gently placing his queen face down on the couch. Marianne heard the front door shut. Agatha threw down her crossbow and crouched by Marianne. 

“I didn’t—” Marianne coughed. “I didn’t know you could shoot.” Agatha scoffed and gently moved the purple wings to the side. Marianne hissed. 

“How could you have, it’s not like we are good friends. Anyhow, any old fool can handle a crossbow. You, Bug King. Go fetch the blonde girl and her short man. Have the blonde bring me the first aid supplies and the short man call the town ambulance.” When Bog didn’t move, she stood and dug her finger into his chest. “Your Queen isn’t going to see her new kingdom if you don’t do as you’re told.” Bog’s face hardened. 

“No. No ‘ambulance’. There is nothing your people can do for her.” He gestured to her wings. “She belongs in the Forest now. We know how to help her.” Agatha was about to give a biting retort when Coria was pushed in by Dawn. Agatha and Bog moved as one to block Dawn’s view of Marianne. 

“What’s all this shouting about?” Coria asked, her eyes narrow. She saw the pair’s efforts and turned to Dawn. “Dawn, my love, would you mind making tea for us? I have a feeling we may need some chamomile. It’s well hidden, you might have to look for it a bite.” Dawn raised her brows at her grandmother, hurt by the insult to her intelligence. Still, the blonde felt the intensity of everyone’s stare. She raised her hands in surrender and walked out of the room. Coria glared at Bog, nostrils flared. “You will not take my granddaughter back into the forest where she was injured. She’s been though enough in there. You and yours have done enough to this family.” 

Bog’s glamor flickered and he stepped forward, getting right in the old woman’s face. 

“Listen to me.” Coria opened her mouth and he raised a finger for silence. She closed her mouth, eyes blazing. “Marianne is no longer of this realm. I don’t know how to explain it but she merged with the spirit of the Marianne from your little fairy tale. Your world’s magic will to little to heal her and the longer she stays here, the more you risk her life. We in the Forest need her.” 

Coria blinked and looked to Agatha, who shrugged. “Fine,” she snapped. “You take care of her, Bug. If anything happens to her, I will kill you.” 

Bog chuckled darkly and moved to pick up Marianne. “Of that, Coria, I have no doubt.”   
.  
.  
.  
She awoke in the same room she had three days ago. No…three months ago. Bog was sleeping in a chair, his head lolling to one side, snoring. She chuckled and he started. He grabbed her hand and kissed it. 

“Are you…?” His eyes were wide as he searched her face. Marianne nodded and laughed as he lunged forward to plant kisses all over her face. She tried her best to return his enthusiasm, laughing harder as a sprite walked in to the spectacle. Her tray clattering to the ground was enough to stop Bog. He laughed and ran to the terrified sprite, scooping her up and spinning her around. Once he set her down, he knelt and looked her in the eyes. 

“Tell anyone about this and—” His threat was interrupted by Marianne clearing her throat. She was standing—supporting herself on the chair that he had been occupying—but standing nonetheless. Bog laughed again and closed the distance between them with a single step. 

“Oh, my Marianne.” He embraced her, and she leaned into him, humming. With a gasp, she pushed herself back. 

“My family! I have to go see them.” Bog pouted and she smirked. She tweaked his bottom lip, flying to the armoire in the corner. “It’ll only be a little trip, I promise.” Marianne pulled on her usual outfit with relative ease. She beckoned him towards her and pecked him on the lips. “I’ll be safe, no worries.” Bog narrowed his eyes and turned to the armoire, pulling something from its depths. 

He emerged with a gorgeous silver sword. Marianne smiled and strapped it to her waist. She flew to his face and kissed him deeply. 

“Feel better?” Bog chuckled and kissed her again. 

“Much. Now get out of here Tough Girl, before your king changes his mind.” Marianne snorted and dove out the window.   
.  
.  
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When she alighted at the edge of the woods, she changed into her glamor. She knew exactly what the magic looked like. Simply Marianne again. She limped to the front door and could barely knock before Agatha threw the door open and tugged her inside. The older woman hugged her close for almost a moment before holding her at arm’s length to look her up and down. “I’ll go get Coria. You wait out on the porch.”

It took longer than expected for Coria to come out. When she did, she had a tea tray on her lap. Agatha set them up and left. Coria didn’t look at Marianne once while Agatha was arranging things. Now she stared at her barn, silent. Marianne chewed her lip and shifted in her chair. 

“Grandma Coria,” she mumbled. “I—I know you’re upset that I…am what I am now. I honestly didn’t have much choice in the matter. And I know that makes you even angrier. But…you have to trust in me. And in Bog. We’ll do our best to…to make this as painless as possible for everyone. Please…” Marianne watched as her grandmother’s eyes flicked over her land. Coria then turned to Marianne, a wistful smile on her face. 

“Do you believe in him?” Her granddaughter beamed and stepped forward to embrace her grandmother. 

 

“Yes. I believe in the Bog King.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end! It's not actually the end, I'll probably start writing one-shots and all that jazz. Comment below what you'd like. Smut? Fluff? Marianne settling into the Forest? Peace talks? Story of what happened to Agatha's wife? What happened to Coria? You want it, I'll write it (hopefully in less time than it took me to write this...).   
> -  
> I hope everyone enjoyed this story. I know I enjoyed writing it. Thank you to each and every one of you for reading and following this work. In all honesty, I wasn't expecting it to go as far as it has. It was supposed to be a small work inspired by another, nothing really special, and very likely to just dwindle out and become an unfinished work. Which it almost did but ANYWAYS. Its crazy to believe its been a year(?) since I was in the rainforests in Alaska and came up with the title for this story. It was such a pleasure to write for you and I look forward to writing more. Thank you to everyone who commented, your ideas and support in kudos were an honor to receive. You are the reason I continued writing this story. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you for being the best fandom ever. Thank you for your patience. Thank you for giving an unsure author some hope that their work isn't all that bad. Very, very much love to all of you and a happy new year.


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